The Sword and Shield
by TheIronSamurai
Summary: The year is 2552. Reach, humanity's greatest stronghold, has fallen to the genocidal onslaught of the Covenant. As Earth is threatened, the UNSC must rely on its secret warriors, the SPARTAN-IIIs, to finally step into the light. As they make preparations to defend humanity's homeworld, one SPARTAN-III will be forced to make impossible choices between love and duty.


**THE SWORD AND SHIELD**

* * *

Prelude: The Forge

 **1830 Hours, March 14, 2546 (Military Calendar) \  
** **Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus System**

Albert Holt stumbled off the Pelican, falling into the warm grass below him. All around him, young boys and girls stormed out of a multitude of dropships. The ground thrummed with the footsteps of hundreds. Albert remained prone, stunned by his fall. A strong hand wrapped around his arm, yanking him forcefully off the ground. The young boy looked up into the eyes of a nameless man in a gray uniform. The man scoffed and shoved Albert forward. "Move along, trainee."

The barely disguised anger in the man's voice scared the eight-year-old. Albert hurried forward, pushing through the tightening crowd of children to a spot somewhere in the last third of the formation. His eyes pivoted to the platform at the head of the inspection yard, where a collection of soldiers stood. One was a head above the rest, his body rippling with powerful muscles that looked almost superhuman.

The man to his right, however, was much scarier to Albert. His body, while not superhumanly massive like his companion, was fit for a man of his age. His face was lined with creases and scars that betrayed both his age and his combat experience, and his gaze was roving over the crowd, almost like a predator's. Albert gulped in fear as the Navy man's eyes passed him over.

Two more nondescript soldiers, average in height, stood to the giant's left. All of the men were wearing simple blue uniforms, as opposed to the gray uniformed soldiers surrounding the children. Without warning, the scary middle aged man drew a pistol and fired into the air. The gunshot silenced the children, whose gazes all snapped to the platform. The man's furious gaze bore into the group as the giant stepped up to the front of the platform.

"Welcome, recruits, to Camp Currahee. You are all here for one reason: to fight. The Covenant has taken everything from you: your families, your homes. I am here to give you something: the power to fight back. To ensure that no one else will be hurt by the Covenant." The giant's words provoked murmurs in the crowd, which were quickly silenced by the soldiers ringing the perimeter.

"Right now, you are just children. But I will give you the chance to become so much more: to become the sword and shield of humanity. By the time you are finished training, you will become Spartans." Now, the murmurs returned with even more force than before. Albert stood, stunned at the revelation.

 _Spartans… Like the one who saved me._ Albert remembered the armored giant who had killed one of the hulking aliens threatening his refugee group on Actium. The distinct way he dodged the ape's wild blows to lodge a knife in its neck. The eagle insignia on his shoulder, with "104" emblazoned beneath it. _I'm going to be a Spartan._

"My name is Lieutenant Commander Ambrose, and this is your chief trainer, Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez. And joining our training team from Beta Company are a pair of my finest students: SPARTANs B091 and B292." Ambrose indicated a patch of grass in front of the platform, puzzling the young recruits. However, the air shimmered, a pair of distortions becoming visible. Ambrose nodded, further confusing the group of children.

A pair of figures appeared where the Commander's hand had pointed, startling the gathered recruits. They were wearing armor, but it was not like that worn by the Spartan who had saved Albert. Colored a shade of grey-green, the armor looked lighter, with plates thinner than that of the other Spartan's armor. The entire suit seemed to shimmer under the parade lights. _It's like a chameleon._ The helmet was more bubble-shaped, but it did share one characteristic with the other armor: a polarized golden faceplate.

The two armored soldiers reached up and took off their helmets. The two were an eclectic pair. Both were very pale, as if they hadn't spent time under the sun in years, and had close-cropped black hair. The man was tall: not as tall as Commander Ambrose, but tall regardless. The woman, on the other hand, was very short, coming up to the middle of the man's chest. Both turned and looked out over the sea of children.

The man spoke, a slight smile on his face. "It's good to meet you. I want to be the first to welcome you to Gamma Company. You are all going to do great things. Call me Tom."

Albert realized with a start that in a few years, he would be just like Tom. Clad in chameleon armor and standing tall despite the loss of his old life. He would be reborn as one of the finest soldiers in history, a scourge to the aliens who burned his world into glass. _I'm going to be a Spartan._

* * *

 **2213 Hours, July 20, 2550 (Military Calendar) \  
** " **The Forge", Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus System**

Albert ducked into the foxhole, a wide grin on his face. Paul-G131, huddled on the far side of the entrenchment, lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. "What has you so happy? We've been in the field for four days with no end in sight." Albert chuckled and reached into a pouch in his training gear. Both Spartans were clad in what some of the DIs called "SPI Mark 0." Essentially modified Marine body armor with a fully enclosed ODST helmet, the recruits trained in it only during Class-V training ops. In other words, the Spartan trainees wore it during live fire combat exercises.

Albert pulled two chocolate bars from the pouch, flashing them out like a fan. Paul depolarized his faceplate, showing Albert an expression that mixed utter shock and pure joy. "Where the hell…" Albert tossed one of the bars to his friend, whose hand snapped up to catch it. "I may have knocked out one of the DIs on our little nightly patrol. He is not going to be happy when he wakes up in his skivvies."

"Or without his chocolate. I can't remember the last time I had this stuff. It must have been months ago." Paul pulled off his helmet to voraciously tear apart the chocolate. Albert laughed as his friend licked his fingers clean of the delicious remnants. Paul looked very different from induction, when he and Albert first met. Because of the hormone treatments they had started six months ago, he looked like he was fifteen rather than eleven. His red hair was just short of regulation, and his eyes were still the same bright green as before. But now he stood tall, but was, as before, still shorter than Albert.

Albert couldn't believe how much he had changed in the last few months. The Spartan had gone from having the body of a twelve-year-old to one of a sixteen year-old. He was almost six feet tall now, and had the same physique as an Olympian. However, some of the consequences of the change hadn't become noticeable until a few months after the start of the treatments. Albert's cheeks flashed red-hot at the thought of a certain female Spartan, one whose body he had often imagined pressed up against his. His body stiffened with the thought, and Albert did the best to get his head back in the game.

"Yeah, I think you're right. Anyway, I also brought us another present." Albert snapped his fingers. Two figures in SPI armor materialized next to the foxhole, causing Paul to jump and go for his weapon. One of the armor-clad individuals depolarized his helmet, revealing an olive-skinned teenager with a broad grin on his face. Paul swore and started to put his helmet back on. "Jesus, Ramon, you scared me."

Ramon-G316, Fireteam Claymore's resident scout, slid into the foxhole with his teammates. " _Hermano_ , don't be so uptight. You've got to loosen up, or you'll shit yourself every time you hear a twig snap." Albert grinned widely at his teammate's comment. Paul grumbled under his breath: something about "damn disappearing acts."

The other figure in SPI slid into the hole, the depolarized faceplate showing a beautiful girl with blonde hair and emerald eyes. Albert's breath was stolen away: _Sarah._ Ramon turned to Albert, who wisely repolarized his faceplate. "Scimitar found something, and Sarah here is gonna tell us what it is exactly."

Sarah-G229 was one of the older trainees, born just a year before Albert. They had first met aboard the UNSC _Thatcher_ en route to Onyx four years before. Their first interaction was not the greatest: she had cleaned his clock by the end of it. She was assigned to Fireteam Scimitar, which often worked with Fireteam Claymore in field ops. Sarah and Albert had likewise grown closer over the years, becoming what could best be described as close acquaintances. While Albert had risen to command his fireteam, and occasionally larger groups of recruits, Sarah had become a frighteningly adept scout, a master of stealth. It was said that if she didn't want anyone to find her, they wouldn't. Armed with SPI armor, there was nothing she couldn't do.

"We've got intel that OpFor is amassing a small strike force to attack Rally Point Bravo. They've got two full squads in SPI, with three regular platoons as backup. Emily wants to know if you're in for a spoiling strike." Albert pulled up a TACMAP of the surrounding area. They were located in the jungle outside Camp Currahee, nicknamed "The Forge" by Gamma Company. Rally Point Bravo was located a few kilometers south of the main camp, serving as the Spartan recruits' makeshift medical and command area.

The op was simple: capture the enemy flag located at Point Omega and return it to Currahee. However, an entire battalion of Marines and DIs had taken up the challenge, with nearly a third of Gamma Company becoming casualties on the first day. Rather than a large, combined assault as before, the company's erstwhile commander, Ash-G099 of Saber, had regrouped near Currahee with the entirety of the company following him. After a few hours, Gamma Company returned to the fight.

Ash had taken the vast majority of the Spartans, over two hundred in forty-some fireteams, in a wide flanking attack to the east. They swung around the enemy pickets and hit Point Omega from the southeast, where their defenses were likely the weakest. At the same time, he sent eight fireteams out to establish observation posts on the route to Bravo. Claymore, Scimitar, and six other teams were the eyes of the company, making sure no sizeable enemy force could form up to attack Bravo. Nearly one hundred wounded Spartans counted on them to make sure they were not captured or taken out of the fight entirely.

It was time to put their defensive strategy to the test. Albert considered Claymore and Scimitar's position, as well as the projected path of the strike force. "Tell Emily to round up Bayonet and Pike for a counterstrike. Meet at Rally Point Echo at 2230 hours." Sarah nodded, repolarizing her faceplate and activating the armor's camouflage. In an instant, she was gone.

Albert turned to Ramon. "Where exactly is this strike force forming up?" Ramon drew a crude map in the dirt. "About two klicks northeast of us. They've formed up everyone except for their second stealth squad, which is swinging around to the west." Albert understood their plan after a few seconds of consideration. Point Omega was located nearly thirty kilometers southeast of Currahee, and nearly twenty-five from Point Bravo. In Gamma Company's staggered retreat, they had left a series of observation posts manned by select fireteams. It appeared that the opposing force didn't know that the fireteams were there, and were mobilizing to strike at the rearguard at Bravo instead. With the main strength of Gamma fighting further east, Bravo wouldn't stand a chance, not against the strike force being assembled.

Luckily for Gamma, the fireteams manning the OPs had a small window to act. If they could hit the strike force before it was fully assembled, they could stop the attack before it started. But they needed to move fast: the second stealth squad swinging west needed to be stopped before it could sneak into the Spartans' camp and wreak havoc.

Albert waved his teammates forward, who followed him out of the foxhole. The three recruits moved to the southeast: Rally Point Echo was only about half a kilometer away from their current position. Albert opened a channel on TEAMCOM, broadcasting to the entirety of Claymore. "Claymore, form up at Charlie. Julie, Jess, we need you."

After a few minutes of cautious movement through the jungle, they arrived in a sheltered clearing, where several Spartans had already taken up residence. Only a few were clad in actual SPI, leaving the rest in training gear. Two peeled off from the larger group and went to greet the new arrivals.

Jessica-G005, Claymore's CQC "expert," thumped Albert on the side of the head. "Good job, fearless leader. Me and Julie haven't heard from you in over twelve hours." Jessica was more of a tomboy, with close-cut brown hair, hazel eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her face. She was, as Mendez put it, "the wiseass of Gamma." Always ready to crack a joke, Jess kept Claymore relaxed in high stress situations.

Her partner, Julie-G243, couldn't be more different. Silent and contemplative, Julie was a master of long-range combat. In fact, it was still undecided if she or Mark-G313 of Team Saber was the best marksman in the entire company. If you asked Albert, he would have to say Julie: she was an artist with sniper rifles, one of which was currently magnetically latched to the back of her armor. Julie had long auburn hair with vivid blue eyes, possessing a kind of elegant beauty. As usual, Ramon moved to stand by her side. Albert watched her relax ever so slightly, as she always did around him.

"Well, Ash did order radio silence. Although I don't know what he was thinking, swinging around to attack Omega from the east. We're outnumbered three to one and they have vehicular and air support."

Paul interrupted Albert with his signature wisdom. "Well, I bet he's counting on the jungle to neutralize the air support. Not much he can do about the vehicles though. If only we were allowed real weapons, then we could light them up with some Jackhammers." Albert smiled at his friend's remarks. It was true: since it was a training op, both sides were limited to stun rounds and rubber bullets. No explosives or heavy ordnance, which some Spartans lamented greatly. _Dante and his explosives._

Sarah trotted over to the five Spartans, prompting Albert to shift his gaze elsewhere. "We're ready for you. Tell us your master plan." Without further ado, the members of Fireteam Claymore joined the now assembled Spartans. Including Claymore, the force numbered twenty Spartans from four different fireteams. Albert grabbed a stick to draw with, taking his place at the center of the clearing. The remaining recruits gathered in a circle around him.

Albert first drew a circle in the dirt to indicate Rally Point Charlie. "Okay, we know that Bravo is about to be hit hard. DIs are sending in a stealth squad to wreak havoc, followed up by two regular platoons with a squad of SPI troopers and Warthogs in support. We need to break this force before it reaches Bravo." The young Spartan drew an X to their northeast, denoting the assembling strike force, and a square to the northwest, representing Rally Point Bravo.

"Now, the stealth squad is swinging around to the west, which means they should pass us soon." He drew a curved arc swinging out from the X, south of the circle, and around to the southern side of the square. "Since Claymore and Scimitar both have only one member in SPI, I'm going to take both teams to take out the stealth squad." He drew a line out from the circle which intersected the first one. "Meanwhile, Teams Bayonet and Pike will strike at the opposing force. Use those SPI suits to your advantage, but don't hesitate to retreat if necessary." He drew a third line from the circle to the X. "Claymore and Scimitar will move to support once we've completed our objective. Any questions?"

None were raised, so Albert pulled the BR55 off his back. "Let's get to work, people."

Fireteams Bayonet and Pike, each with two SPI-clad members, slipped off into the jungle. Claymore and Scimitar remained in the clearing, preparing for their mission. Albert began to give out specific orders for each member of his group. "Alright, we're going to be ambushing them in a clearing not too far south of here. Sarah and Ramon, you're planting the flashbangs and then holing up on the eastern side. No stragglers are getting away. Julie and Daniel, I want you on overwatch. Jess and Jacob, make sure none of them can make it to Bravo through the western side. Mako, Emily, and Paul, you're with me. We're hitting them from the north. Everyone clear?"

Nine acknowledgement lights flashed green in his HUD. Albert nodded and thrust his hand forward. "Move out."

* * *

Albert lay prone, hidden by a bank of dense foliage. To his right was Paul, who was adjusting the sights on his MA5K carbine. To his left was Mako-G160, Scimitar's tech expert, and Emily-G325, their leader. The other three Spartans had MA5K carbines with M6G scoped magnums as secondaries. Albert, on the other hand, used his standard loadout: a BR55 battle rifle and an M7 submachine gun. They had taken up position on the northern edge of the clearing, ready to burst forth at a moment's notice.

Albert activated his VISR, quickly locating the other Spartans in his group. Julie was hidden high up in a tree to the northwest of the clearing, with Daniel doing the same to the southeast. Jessica and Jacob, armed with M90 shotguns and M7 SMGs, were on the clearing's western edge. At the center of the clearing, cloaked, were the teams' only SPI-wearing members. Sarah and Ramon had just finished planting the flashbangs and were scurrying off to hide in the vegetation to the east. The trap was set.

After a few minutes of waiting, rustling could be heard coming from the east. Ramon's acknowledgement light blinked red twice: hostiles were approaching. The foliage at the eastern edge of the clearing parted mysteriously in several places, Albert's trained eyes picking up the tell-tale shimmer of camouflage. His lips bared in a wild grin. _Got you._

Albert's acknowledgement light blinked green rapidly. _Open fire._ Suddenly, seven flashbangs buried in the ground around the small clearing detonated. The resulting flashes of light overloaded the photoreactive panels of the nine SPI-clad DIs. With their camouflage gone, they were fish in a barrel.

Julie's first two shots felled as many DIs, with the remaining running for cover. Daniel took out another, pushing the disoriented trainers north. _Right to us._ Two DIs tried to run to the northwest to take out Julie, dodging fire from both snipers. The other four finally reset their photoreactive panels just as Albert managed to fire off a burst. The missed rounds ripped open the jungle behind them. _Damn. I thought we'd have more time. Plan B._

Albert clicked the TEAMCOM channel twice. Jessica and Jacob sprinted into the clearing, felling the two uncloaked DIs with ease. At the same time, white tracers lanced out from the east, two more DIs falling to the ground now uncloaked. Albert rose up and walked into the clearing, rifle at the ready. He was followed by the other three recruits, who swung their rifles around to find the two last DIs.

Both SPI-clad individuals decloaked, realizing the futility of their efforts. They pointed their battle rifles straight at Albert, having identified him as the leader. "Give it up, kid. Unless you want to be in a whole lot of pain, I suggest you-" Two sniper shots rang out to silence the two DIs. Albert nodded to an unseen Julie, and turned his attention back to the fallen trainers. "We've got nine suits of armor and eight Spartans. Perfect."

* * *

Stripping the DIs of their armor, the Spartans of Claymore and Scimitar doffed the SPI suits with a measure of familiarity. They had done this many times before in previous training exercises, but Commander Ambrose had refused to give them armor of their own until augmentation. The Spartans were understandably annoyed by his decision, but made do on the battlefield.

Albert placed his trusty BR55 on his back, the magnetic strips latching the battle rifle to his armor. He reached down to grab his helmet, sliding it down over his head. _Very nice._ Albert synced his VISR uplink from his previous armor to the new suit, opening the TACMAP to see Bayonet and Pike's progress. He grimaced to see them pinned down by the opposing force, who appeared to be pushing back.

He flashed through TEAMBIO, seeing that at least everyone was still conscious. He noticed slight abnormalities in Sarah's heartbeat. Albert glanced over at the aforementioned Spartan, who seemed to be looking at him. Her head snapped away, turning back to Emily who needed some help with her armor. Sarah's heartbeat increased at the action, causing Albert to frown. _What's going on?_

He pushed the thought out of his head. _Bayonet and Pike need us right now._ Albert made sure that his battle rifle was fully loaded, doing one last weapons check. _All good._

Turning to his now SPI-clad brethren, he uttered only two words before cloaking. "Let's go."

* * *

 **0243 Hours, July 21, 2550 (Military Calendar) \  
** " **The Forge", Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus System**

Albert plopped down in his foxhole once more, taking off his helmet with a thankful sigh. After taking out the stealth squad, Claymore and Scimitar had raced to rescue Bayonet and Pike from defeat. The ten cloaked Spartans had snuck up on the enemy force from behind and utterly annihilated them. In the end, they had sent the remaining "survivors" scurrying back to Point Omega. Now, all twenty Spartans were clad in SPI armor thanks to the generous donations of unconscious DIs.

Albert chuckled, running a hand through his cropped brown hair. Putting his rifle down beside him, he prepared to fall asleep for a few hours. Paul and Jessica were on patrol, leaving Albert alone in the foxhole until at least 0600. _Just a few hours of shut-eye._

The young teenager was startled by a Spartan decloaking and plopping into the foxhole across from him. Without his helmet, he couldn't identify the Spartan until she depolarized her helmet. It was Sarah. Albert's cheeks flooded red as he looked at her. His eyes were drawn to her lips, his mind now filled with thoughts of them pressed against his. More than anything, he wished he could just put his helmet back on.

Sarah reached up and undid her helmet's seals. Pulling the helmet off, she turned it around in her hands and stared down at the repolarized faceplate. "You know, ever since induction, this is all I wanted to be. The only thing keeping me going after my family's murder was the chance for revenge, the chance to be a Spartan." She wiped a speck of grime off the golden visor, becoming deathly silent for a few moments.

Albert opened his mouth to say something, but Sarah interrupted him. "But lately, I've felt… different. For the first time in years, I don't just feel that burning need for revenge. I feel… warm, but for a different reason." Albert's cheeks flared with heat again. _I know the feeling._

Sarah set her helmet down beside her and turned her gaze to Albert. Despite his best intentions, he found himself lost in her beautiful green orbs. _They're like emeralds._ His breath felt stolen away. Whatever words on his mind died on his tongue. "I feel… like I want to get to know you better." Before Albert could even react, she lunged forward to grab his head in her hands. _Oh fu…_

She yanked his head closer to smash her lips on his. Albert quickly recovered from his confusion to return the favor, deepening the kiss. His hands gently wrapped around her head, while her arms wrapped around his neck. Suddenly, he felt very hot, even though he was in climate controlled armor. Something told him that the heat had nothing to do with his armor: at least, not the way he thought.

Sarah finally peeled away after tantalizing seconds of contact. To Albert's ever increasing shock, her cheeks were red as she unconsciously ran her tongue over her lips. _I don't think I've ever seen her blush._ His resolve hardened at the realization. The young Spartan let his armored hand rest gently on her cheek. Sarah's head snapped back up, her eyes locking onto his. He closed the distance between them once more.

 _I've got a few hours to kill._

* * *

 **0721 Hours, August 18, 2551 (Military Calendar) \  
** " **The Forge", Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus System**

Albert stared out over the killing field from the safety of the captured pillbox. _Fuck these class 5 ops._ This was the third one since the company's augmentations in February, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. _When are they going to give us a real fight?_

At least Commander Ambrose had seen fit to grant them the use of SPI suits for this fight. Albert looked down at his hands, now enclosed in matte-gray armor plating. The new Mark II suits were complete with VISR upgrades and improved ballistic gel layers, giving Gamma Company even more of an edge over the average UNSC infantry soldier. Of course, this exercise would test both the now augmented SPARTAN-IIIs and their new equipment to new extremes.

The operation in question was a standard simulation combat exercise: Gamma Company had to eliminate eighty percent of the enemy force to win. The problem: the enemy was the 4th and 5th Marine Expeditionary Units, numbering over four thousand Marines in all. An MEU was essentially a reinforced infantry battalion complete with an artillery battery, a light recon company, tank platoon, and cavalry platoon. Oh, and a squadron of AV-14 Hornets. And to top it all off, the Marines were reinforced with two companies of ODSTs, some of the toughest soldiers in the entire UNSC. Needless to say, Gamma Company had its work cut out.

The sun was now rising on the third day of the battle. Gamma Company had succeeded in taking out thirty-four percent of the enemy while only losing five percent of their strength. The fact that these unaugmented soldiers had taken down three fireteams worth of Spartans was a testament to their skill: they were fresh from the frontlines of the war. The ODSTs were proving to be particularly nettlesome, deploying on Pelicans to shore up hot zones in minutes.

For this op, the company had split into eleven troops, each numbering six fireteams. Due to his experiences leading large numbers of Spartans, Albert had been given command of Kilo Troop. The six fireteams comprising the troop were Bayonet, Claymore, Halberd, Lance, Scimitar, and Trident. Albert's thirty Spartans had been charged with advanced recon of an enemy stronghold dubbed "Masada" by Gamma Company. They took their inspiration from their history lessons: it was a makeshift fortress sitting atop a hill overlooking the jungle below. The hill was at the center of a series of rises, which sloped down into a small valley before meeting the slopes of the hill itself.

The Marines had dug in, building six bunkers on the surrounding hills. Each bunker consisted of two pillboxes linked by tunnels to a small underground complex. Ingeniously, they had placed the bunkers on the reverse slope of the rises, so that they faced inward towards Masada. Albert appreciated their thinking: if the Spartans had attempted a mass attack through the gaps in the ring of hills, the bunkers and Masada could hit them from both sides.

Under Albert's orders, Kilo Troop, clad for the first time in SPI armor, had targeted one of the bunkers for capture. Using the cover of darkness, three teams had stormed a pillbox each, securing the outer defenses of the bunker. Then, they had taken the underground complex. Two platoons of Marines had to be taken away by the DIs, who now served as referees for exercises. Chief Mendez, who had accompanied them, only gave an appreciative nod to the young commander whose plan had secured Gamma Company a new edge in the fight.

Now, as the sun rose, Albert was about to rotate out for rest, someone else taking the watch. Until further news from the rest of the company, Kilo Troop would stay put.

A rap on his shoulder woke Albert from his thoughts. He looked behind him to see Lisa-G012, Fireteam Lance's leader, standing with a MA5K cradled in her hands. "It's 0730 Albert. Go get some sleep." Albert only shrugged and pushed off the wall that he had been standing against. Passing Lisa, he swiped his fingers across his faceplate in a Spartan smile. She returned the favor and took his previous position, gazing out over the valley.

Albert walked into the corridor linking the pillbox and the underground part of the bunker. He noticed two members of Fireteam Bayonet manning defensive positions two-thirds of the way down the hall. A particularly nasty looking M247 machine gun was aimed directly at him. "Stroke." Albert rolled his eyes: looking at his IFF tags would confirm he was a fellow Spartan, but he knew he had to follow protocol.

"Parry." At that, the machine gun returned to its previous position, and the two Spartans relaxed. "Enjoy your nap." Albert flashed another Spartan smile as he passed the improvised fortifications and walked up to a thick titanium door. He knocked twice and stood back. The heavy slab of metal swung outwards, allowing the Spartan to step through the now-open doorway.

Albert took a look around the bunker. Right now, he was standing in the armory, where half a dozen Spartans milled about in varying states of readiness. Julie and Ramon sat in one corner, talking quietly as Julie cleaned her beloved sniper rifle. Jessica and a few other Spartans were laughing in another corner, probably at some joke of hers. The only member of Claymore absent was Paul, who was on corridor duty for the other pillbox. Albert, satisfied with the state of things, continued on through the next doorway.

Behind the armory, there was a corridor ending in a T-junction. To the right lay the vehicle bay and exit to the outside world. To the left were a dozen barracks, each able to comfortably fit two squads of Marines. He activated his TACMAP, his VISR suite adding the location of each S-III in Kilo Troop to the bunker layout on his HUD. To his surprise, one of the barracks held only one person. His body flashed hot when he saw the IFF tag: G229.

Walking down to Barracks 7, he activated the controls to the left of the doorframe. The thin steel door slid up at his touch, light from the hallway spilling into the darkened room. Albert stepped into the barracks, subconsciously activating his VISR low-light vision module. Eight bunk beds lined each side of the barracks, but only one of them was occupied. A suit of SPI armor lay next to the occupied bunk, highlighted in blue by the VISR's FOF designators.

Sarah sat up in bed, looking directly at the armor-clad Spartan. Even after augmentation, Albert still found her utterly intoxicating. She had grown into a beautiful woman, the results of months of hormone therapy and chemical augmentations. While only fourteen years old, Sarah now had the body of a fully grown woman, a Spartan woman to boot. She stood at five feet nine inches, almost nine inches shorter than Albert, and still somehow possessed her womanly curves despite being augmented. Usually, the SPI armor did a lot to hide her figure, but now she wore only a ratty T-shirt and PT shorts.

Sarah stood up slowly, not breaking eye contact with her armor-clad counterpart. Her gaze made Albert shiver, despite being in climate-controlled armor. She drew her hand across his chest, marveling in the smoothness of the plating. He felt a hitch in his breath, closing his eyes to refocus himself. His helmet hissed as someone undid the seals and lifted it off his head.

Sarah placed the helmet gently on an adjacent bunk and turned back to face Albert. Slowly and methodically, she helped him strip off the rest of his armor. He sat down on the bunk to pull off his boots, setting the heavy footwear on the ground next to him. Now clad in only a black undersuit, the Spartan stood up once more. Sarah gazed at his body appreciatively, running a hand subconsciously through her hair. To his amusement, a blush colored her cheeks as she looked downwards.

He lightly grabbed her chin between his fingers, drawing her gaze back to him. Even now, the sight of those emerald eyes caused his insides to broil with passion. His other hand came to rest on her cheek, slowly drawing her towards him. Frustrated, Sarah grabbed his head forcefully and pulled him in for a kiss. _God, I love it when she does that._

Albert deepened the kiss, only to be disappointed when she pulled away. A grin was plastered across her beautiful face. "What?" Albert asked as she walked away, plopping down on her bunk once more. He swore he could see her sashay on her way to the bed. _I love that too._

She smirked and pointed at the showers at the back of the barracks. "You stink. Go clean yourself up, then I believe I have a few more hours of rest." The tone in her voice added an extra spring to his step as he all but ran to the showers. A few seconds later and he stood naked under the hot stream of water, his undersuit tossed haphazardly to the side. Despite certain parts of his body urging him to hurry, the Spartan savored the few minutes he had in the shower.

Contrary to the Mjolnir armor, SPI armor was not meant for extended deployments. While it was climate controlled, it was still highly uncomfortable after a few days. The feeling of grime on his skin slowly washed away, leaving him feeling lighter. Closing his eyes, he let the water run over his face. It felt like all of the stress and adrenaline of the last few days just disappeared down the drain.

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, the feeling of a familiar body pressed against his back. Albert spun to find Sarah embracing him. She stood as naked as he was. _Jesus, she really is quiet._ His hands went to her waist as their mouths met again. The clash for dominance caused Albert to slam into the shower wall, eliciting a groan from the Spartan. Sarah smiled against the kiss and bit down on his bottom lip.

Albert groaned again and broke off the kiss. She smiled, only to gasp as his lips went to her neck. He began to leave a trail of kisses, starting at her neck and moving downward. Slowly but surely, he reached her stomach, delighted to hear her breath hitch in anticipation. Albert smiled once more and moved to go even farther south…

…when the klaxons began to blare. At that moment, Albert had never felt so angry. _Motherfucker._ Rage boiled up inside of him, suppressed only by his training and sheer willpower. He turned off the water with a snarl, drying himself off with a towel snatched from nearby. Sarah was doing the same, having snapped back into Spartan mode.

In under a minute, both had doffed their undersuits and began the process of putting on their armor. The room was filled only with the sound of metal latching. After half a minute, Sarah spoke. "I'm sorry, but you know…" Albert cut her off with an uncharacteristically brusque reply. "I know." With that, he shoved his helmet back on and grabbed his discarded battle rifle.

The two left the barracks together, joining the crowd of Spartans surging towards the armory. They got a few glances, but the Spartans of Kilo Troop wisely kept their mouths shut. The other team leaders walked up to Albert as he entered the room, Sarah splitting off to join her team. Albert watched her walk away, eliciting a cough from Lisa. Shaking his head, the leader of Claymore focused on the task at hand.

"Sit rep." The team leaders remained silent. "I said sit rep!" His angry shouting caused the other Spartans to glance over, but he ignored them. Howard-G285, the leader of Trident, indicated to follow him. "You'll have to see it to believe it."

Following the team leader through the corridor to Pillbox 1, Albert stopped in his tracks at the door. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. _Those bastards._

Somehow, through the act of some malevolent deity, a frigate now hovered over Masada. Albert quickly identified it from his lessons with Deep Winter: it was a _Charon_ -class light frigate, designed for fleet escort and planetary defense. This one in particular had seen some battles, with deep scars across its hull from Covenant pulse lasers. The name "HERALD" was barely visible after years of battle. While this ship may not have been a match for Covenant vessels, it was certain more than capable of destroying Gamma Company.

Howard shook his head. "The Commander didn't say a goddamn thing about a frigate. This is bullshit." The Spartan walked away from the pillbox's opening, replaced by Albert as he stared at the frigate. "When did this happen?"

Lisa spoke up. "About a few minutes ago. It was obscured by the cloud cover until it was within earshot. I couldn't believe it at first, but then I sounded the alarm. I couldn't risk the Marines finding out we're here, so I didn't try to reach Ash." Albert nodded and started to walk back to the armory.

"What's the plan Albert?" Scimitar's leader, Emily-G325, looked worried. Albert didn't even turn to look at her, prompting her to lay a hand on his shoulder. "Albert?"

He spun around to face her, depolarizing his visor. Much to her and everyone else's surprise, it was set with determination. "We're taking that frigate. This ends today."

* * *

Albert stood in front of the assembled Spartans of Kilo Troop, his helmet held to his side. The members of Fireteam Claymore stood in the front, Jessica shooting Albert a grin. He swiped his fingers in front of his face in return. He turned his attention back to the troop, clearing his throat to address them.

"As you all know, the enemy just pulled out their trump card. If left unchecked, that frigate could be used for high altitude recon flights or worse. We might be able to knock their Pelicans and Hornets out of the sky, but that frigate is invulnerable to our weapons. However, it's also invulnerable to theirs." Confused looks crossed the faces of many a Spartan.

"This bunker has a Pelican, isn't that correct Paul?" Paul nodded. "Then I'm taking that frigate to finish this once and for all." The Spartans looked stunned, but not surprised. If they had learned anything from Mendez, it was that there was no such thing as a no-win scenario. That frigate would end the battle, giving the advantage to the side that possessed it.

"I've just heard from Ash. He's implemented code Omega-2. The rest of the company is falling back to Red Line until further notice. I managed to convince him to send Hotel Troop to reinforce our position. Valerie and her Spartans will take up our positions in two hours. Now, I need Bayonet, Claymore, Lance and Scimitar to suit up and report to the vehicle bay. Halberd and Trident will remain here and help Hotel to secure this position. Any questions, Spartans?"

The room was silent. Albert smiled. _Mendez trained us well._ "Then get to it." In a flash, the Spartans were off. Albert made his way to a weapons rack, yanking his battle rifle off his back. He loaded up on 9.5x40mm M634 rounds, slamming a full magazine into the receiver and yanking back the handle. Satisfied, the Spartan slapped the rifle right on his back and picked up a submachine gun. He placed it on his right hip, right below his grenade belt.

Looking to his right, he saw Sarah pick out two submachine guns. A light smile came to his face: Sarah did love her dual wielding. She glanced at him, swiping her fingers over her faceplate. Albert returned the gesture, opening a private COM channel between the two of them. "Be careful out there, Sarah."

"Worry about yourself Al. I'll see you at the Pelican." She closed the COM channel as she rejoined her team, now gathering on the other side of the room. Albert stood there, watching her wistfully before realizing his mistake. He turned and walked back to the rear corridor. Making a right at the T-junction, he found the rest of Fireteam Claymore heading for the hangar.

"Couldn't wait for your team leader? Didn't Mendez teach you anything?" Jessica looked over her shoulder and responded over TEAMCOM. "I'm pretty sure when your team lead is busy making kissy faces with his girlfriend against regs, we can do whatever the hell we want." She was most assuredly sporting one of her signature grins right about now.

"Don't listen to her Al. She's just upset because you seem to be one of the few in this company who's ballsy enough to get some action. And I'm not talking live-fire drills." Paul's crude remarks filtered over the radio next, the wisecracking tech specialist slinging his MA5K over his back. Despite his best efforts, Albert snickered a bit at Paul's comeback. Jessica flipped both of them off.

"Whatever losers. Just because I could screw half the guys in this company doesn't mean I will. For god's sake, we're Spartans, not rabbits." This prompted a chuckle from even Julia, who held her sniper rifle in her hands like it was a precious instrument. Ramon, standing next to her, placed a friendly hand on her shoulder, an action not lost to the leader of Claymore. _Is there something there?_

By this time, the team had reached the hangar. Fireteam Bayonet had beaten them to the Pelican, as usual. They had the fastest times for rapid deployment in the whole company, after all. Their leader, Suraj-G258, nodded to Albert as Claymore approached. "Nice to see you, Al. So, this crazy plan of yours, going to work or no?"

"It's the only option remaining, no matter how batshit crazy it is." Suraj flashed a Spartan smile, one which Albert happily returned. Looking back at his own team, he pointed to the Pelican. "Paul, get your ass in there and fire up the engines. I want to leave the second Scimitar and Lance get here." With some grumbling, Paul, accompanied by Jessica, stepped into the dropship.

As Paul began the pre-flight checklist, the remaining Spartans filed into the Pelican. Fireteam Scimitar was next to arrive, followed narrowly by Fireteam Lance. All ten Spartans got onto the Pelican wordlessly, save Sarah. She placed a caring hand on Albert's shoulder, looking right at his faceplate. "After this is over, we can have that talk." Albert nodded brusquely and tilted his head towards the Pelican.

After Sarah leaped into the slowly ascending dropship, Albert followed. "Paul, get us out of here." The troop bay doors sealed behind Claymore's leader, leaving only the red running lights to illuminate the blood tray. Seventeen fully armored SPARTAN-IIIs sat in front of him, securing their safety harnesses and doing one last weapons check. It was time.

Time to show that frigate what Spartans were born to do: win.

* * *

"This is Herald Actual to November 26. Please state your business, over."

Paul was quick to respond. "This is November 26. I have injured onboard. Requesting permission to land, over." Albert stood next to him, his face twisted with doubt. The whole plan hinged on this radio conversation. Jessica spoke up from the co-pilot's station behind Paul.

"Their point defense network just went online, but they aren't tracking us. My guess is that the guns are running on a simple automated network. There doesn't seem to be A.I. control." Albert nodded. "Weapons rundown?"

"Well, it's all simulated, but they've got four twin-linked autocannons, about ten pods of thirty Archers each, and an operational MAC." The Pelican's scanners were actually combing through a database compiled reluctantly by Endless Summer, the new A.I. for Zone 67. Since the Spartans had upgraded from standard live-fire ops, they now used, in conjunction with stun ammunition, a laser-based system not unlike that of the U.S. Army in the twenty-first century. However, this time around, the whole system was monitored by Endless Summer and two "dumb" A.I.'s at Currahee, who calculated damage and casualty rates.

Albert blanched: the frigate had three hundred Archers, and an operational MAC to boot. _That's enough firepower to obliterate a city, let alone three hundred Spartans._ The four teams on the Pelican were Gamma's only chance of salvaging this op. _And we will deliver._

The radio crackled to life again. "November 26, please transmit authentication codes, over." Albert blanched: authentication codes? They didn't exactly ask the pilots for the codes before putting TTRs into them. Paul looked up at him. "What's our move Al?"

Albert thumbed down the transmission button. "Herald Actual, we have wounded onboard. Our captain had the authentication codes, but he's in bad shape. Requesting permission to land, over." Letting go of the button, he sucked in a breath and waited.

A beeping noise emanated from the co-pilot console. Jessica swore under her breath. "They've got target lock! Firing up ECMs." Albert grabbed her wrist before she could input any commands. "No! If we power up any combat systems, they'll know we're not who we say we are. Hold course."

Jessica snarled, but withdrew her hand from the console. Albert knew the feeling: Spartans may have been trained in stealth, but they all still reveled in the chance for open combat. To test their might against that of their opponent. But Albert, like most of the team leaders in the company, knew that there was a time to go in strong, and a time to go in smart. This was time for brains, not brawn.

"November 26, we'll give you clearance to land. But so much as twitch in the wrong way and we will open fire. That clear, over?" Paul quickly responded. "Crystal. Over and out." He turned back to face Albert, a wide grin splitting his face. "Looks like we're in business." Albert flashed his friend a Spartan smile in return.

Walking back to the troop bay, Albert looked around to see anxious Spartans checking their gear for the thousandth time. He clicked the TEAMCOM twice to get their attention. With all eyes on him, he began to speak.

"We've got clearance to land. Once the Pelican touches down, I want everyone to follow the mission objective. Bayonet, I need you to go in quiet and secure the reactor. Lance, secure the hangar. Claymore and Scimitar, we're headed right for the bridge. Keep as quiet as possible until that is no longer an option. We've got SPI, so use it. Don't go in guns blazing unless you have to."

Paul interjected over the TEAMCOM. "We're touching down now. They've got two full squads of Marines waiting for us." Albert nodded and yanked the battle rifle off his back. Pulling back the handle, he was relieved to hear the usual _click_. "Hit the camo. It's time."

* * *

Sergeant Ramirez had warned his squad about the camo units the Spec Ops unit was using. He had told them at least a hundred times. Now he was lying face-first on the cold hangar deck, paralyzed from the neck down by Tactical Training Rounds. _Fucking morons._

Albert smirked as he decloaked momentarily. The twenty Marines sprawled across the hangar deck never knew what hit 'em. "Lance, sweep the bay. Everyone else, you know the drill." He vanished once more, the reactive panels in his armor making him appear as a simple blurred humanoid outline. _Time to have some fun._

A _Charon_ -class frigate was less than 500 meters in length and only 140 meters in height. That meant that Claymore and Scimitar had 14 decks to ascend before reaching the bridge. _Only 100 meters to the elevators._ Albert ducked as tracer fire ripped through the air near his head. Two loud cracks and the marines attacking him were down. He looked back to see Julia lower her sniper rifle, smoke curling up from the barrel.

He flashed a green acknowledgement light in thanks and turned his attention back to the hallway. They had only encountered minor resistance from the ship's Marine contingent. _There must only be a platoon or so on the ship. Good for us._ With only forty-some Marines matched to his twenty Spartans, the frigate was as good as theirs. He dropped a NAV marker on the elevator banks, indicating for his Spartans to follow.

They did, moving like shadows through the dim hallways. Jessica took point, her specialty being CQC and clearance after all. Paul and Albert fell in behind her, their rifles sweeping the hallway as they moved forward. Julie and Ramon, as always, took the rear of Claymore's position. Julie's sniper rifle provided the team with needed long-range support, and Ramon's primary job was to make sure nobody blindsided the fireteam from behind.

Scimitar was taking, as Emily had put it, "an alternate route." Muted weapons fire erupted from their general direction. Opening TEAMBIO, Albert made sure that all of his Spartans were still accounted for. Other than a minor injury for Daniel-G093, Scimitar was combat effective. Albert glanced at his HUD: _turn right at this junction, then 50 meters until the elevators._

Jessica took cover at the corner, motioning for everyone else to do the same. Albert took up position right behind her, checking his motion tracker for hostiles. The only movement he detected was from his teammates, painted blue on his tracker. Jessica extended a fiber optic probe around the corner, taking care not to be seen by potential enemies. Albert was alarmed when she seemed to start before composing herself and pulling the fiber optic cable back.

She turned around and gestured with her hands. Twelve Marines patrolling the hallway between them and the elevators. Two machine guns set up to overlook the doors. Six… ODSTs? _Shit, this just got a lot more messy._

Albert mimed pulling a pin and throwing a grenade, then held up one finger to Jessica. She nodded and grabbed a concussion grenade out of her combat webbing at her waist. Albert did the same, motioning to the rest of the fireteam to be ready. He flashed a green acknowledgement light, swinging out into the hallway momentarily. The Spartan only saw the looks of astonishment on the Marines' faces for a split second before he dove back into cover. Two loud bangs erupted from around the corner, accompanied by a bright flash.

Fireteam Claymore moved in for the kill. Ramon sprinted forward to unleash a concentrated burst from his SMG, catching two Marines offguard. Julie opened fire on the two turret operators, knocking them out with two impeccably aimed headshots. Jessica laughed as she dove right into combat, her shotgun taking out four Marines in the span of half as many seconds. The two remaining members of Claymore set their sights on the ODSTs at the rear of the formation: their helmets and bodysuits had mitigated the worst of the concussion grenades, leaving them mostly effective. Mostly.

Albert fired off three bursts from his battle rifle, knocking out one of the ODSTs with the first two and catching another in the arm. The Helljumper cursed and dropped his weapon as his limb went numb. Paul fired a grenade from his underslung launcher, blasting two ODSTs into unconsciousness with a concentrated cloud of TTR fluid. The last ODST, and the leader from the looks of it, charged directly at Albert, bellowing a war cry. Foolishly, the soldier hadn't even fired his weapon, instead using it as a club.

Albert sidestepped the first swing of the assault rifle, holstering his battle rifle while doing so. The angry Helljumper swung again, but this time Albert had both hands free. The young Spartan reached up and grabbed the weapon with his hand, stopping the attack suddenly. Ripping the weapon from the ODST's grip, Albert tossed it away and unleashed a barrage of hits on the Helljumper. To his credit, the ODST lasted almost five seconds before dropping to the floor with a thud.

Albert dusted off his hands theatrically, eliciting a chuckle from Paul. With the last of the opposing force neutralized, Claymore's leader opened TEAMCOM with the twenty Spartans aboard the _Herald_. "All teams, report in."

"This is Bayonet One. Reactor is secured, but we lost G063 in the assault." Albert grimaced as he opened TEAMBIO. Sure enough, Bernhard's name was now red, with MIA right next to it. "Acknowledged, Bayonet One. Hold position. Fireteam Lance, have you completed your sweep?"

"Roger that, Claymore One. OpFor has been neutralized, hangar secured. Requesting permission to reinforce Bayonet at the reactor." Lisa-G012 was a great team leader, but sometimes failed to see the larger strategic picture. "Negative, Lance One. Your priority is ensuring our extraction is secure. Remain in the hangar unless directed otherwise." A green acknowledgement light from Lisa popped up in Albert's HUD.

"This is Scimitar One. Five seconds out." Five distortions rounded the corner of the junction Claymore had just come from. Without a word, both fireteams decloaked. Scimitar looked a little banged up, but not too much. Daniel, the team's marksman, was holding his DMR in his left hand, his right arm hanging limply at his side. "SPARTAN-G093, status?"

"Green, sir." Daniel was a Spartan: no injury was too severe, too crippling. He would fight with his teeth if needed. Albert nodded and turned to his fellow fireteam leader. "Any problems getting here?"

"ODST kill team blindsided us, got Daniel in the arm before we took 'em down. Otherwise it was quiet as a church." Emily looked around at the mass of unconscious and wounded Marines surrounding Claymore. "You guys look like you had some fun." Emily kneeled down to stare at the sole conscious ODST, who was clutching his right arm. "Oh Helljumpers. When will you learn that Spartans are just better?"

"Scimitar One, stow it. We have a job to finish. Scimitar, Claymore, mount up." The two fireteams piled into two elevators, their armor making it impossible to fit more than five Spartans in an elevator at one time. Albert jabbed the button for the bridge. The elevator jerked upwards, moving quite fast for its age.

The team leader put his battle rifle on his back and grabbed his M7 SMG instead. The bridge would only have a few guards, making clearance much easier than the hallway below. Besides, if they hit a few crewmen, it wouldn't matter. All the Spartans were trained to operate the different bridge stations regardless.

The elevator dinged as it reached its destination, slowing to a halt. Albert felt the world slow down around him, as if everything was moving in slow motion. It was a result of their extensive neurological augmentations, an effect dubbed "SPARTAN time" by Commander Ambrose. In this state, Albert could see, think, and react to a threat in milliseconds. As the elevator doors inched open, Albert took it all in, once again immensely thankful for his augmented Spartan physique.

Two Marines stood guarding the elevator doors, with an ODST standing by the captain's chair. Albert could also see, out of the corner of his eye, Fireteam Scimitar exiting the elevator to his right, their weapons up and ready. A crack sounded out behind him: Julie opening fire with her sniper rifle at the ODST. Two members of Scimitar, indistinguishable in their SPI armor, took out the two Marines with a burst from each of their carbines. All three guards went down like sacks of potatoes, startling the remaining bridge crew.

"Hands in the air, now!" Albert made his way to the command chair, taking care not to step on the ODST's unconscious body. The other nine Spartans cleared the room, policing the Marines' weapons and moving their bodies into one of the vacant elevators. Albert found an older man sitting in the command chair, his fingers hovering over a holographic display.

"Don't bother. I had my tech guy jam your comms before we even touched down. Any distress call you send out won't make it to your buddies on the ground." The captain pulled his hand back, his eyes wide at the imposing figure standing before him. Albert gestured to the right with his submachine gun, accompanied with a tilt of the head.

The man stood up and walked warily to the side of the bridge. The other Spartans rounded up the bridge crew and slapped zip cuffs on them after confiscating any data pads or weapons they might have had on them. One crewman tried to fire off a shot from his sidearm, but Paul knocked him out with a gentle "tap" before he could do any damage. After that incident, the crew became much more compliant.

Albert sat down in the command chair, pulling up a holographic readout of the ship. "Albert, you're at Operations. Get the ship's reactors running at twenty-five percent. Julie, get on the Weapons station. Tell me everything there is to know about this bucket's armament. Ramon, Navigation: plot us a course towards the main fighting. Jessica, get on Communications and contact Ash. Fireteam Scimitar, you're to secure the perimeter of the bridge from any hostile counterattacks. Understood?"

Nine green acknowledgement lights winked at Albert, indicating his Spartans' readiness. Nodding, he watched his teammates get into position and start interacting with their stations. Paul dove right in: he was like a fish in water with this sort of technical expertise. Julie had the simplest job: a simple holographic readout appeared over her station listing any and all simulated weapons the _Herald_ had. Jessica had some trouble interacting with her station, snarling as error messages kept popping up on the screen. "Fucking computers."

Ramon, upon powering up the navigation console, found that the _Herald_ had actually launched three Clarion spy drones into the upper atmosphere at the beginning stages of the battle. "I guess I found how they've been able to track large formations. I'm counting three Clarion spy drones in the lower thermosphere. Retasking now." With the press of a button, Ramon rewired any and all Clarion feeds to the _Herald_.

"I'm counting three Pelicans moving in fast, two Wombats flying escort. ETA sixty seconds." Jessica piped up after Julie finished speaking. "Ash just called: wondered if we're in for a little fire mission." Albert's lips bared in an almost beastly fashion. It was time to show these Marines who they were messing with.

"Julie, knock those bandits out of the sky. Then, get me a firing solution for Masada." Julie nodded and went about her tasks without a word spoken. Ramon finished plotting a course into the upper atmosphere and turned to face Albert. "Escape route programmed in. Although I don't know why…"

A blaring alert cut off the young Spartan. Paul blanched as he pulled up the schematics on what was targeting them. "Got it: Masada has two Onager mass drivers pointed right at us. The ECMs are doing everything they can to throw off the lock, but it's only a matter of time before they catch us between a rock and a hard place. We need to do something, and fast."

Albert already had a plan in mind. "Ramon, get us out of here. Low orbit, far side of the planet. Julie, you may fire when ready." He leaned back in his chair as the whole ship rumbled. "Paul, give us fifty percent power." Upon command, the ship lurched forward again, hurtling through the atmosphere at incredible speeds. A faint boom could be heard as the ship broke the sound barrier.

"Masada no longer has target lock. Pelicans are continuing pursuit: engaging. Hold on… Targets destroyed. Wombats returning to base, out of range for our autocannons. Should we break out the Archers?" Julie turned around to look at Albert, who shook his head. "Negative. Trace the Wombats back to their source. Find out what groundside targets we need to hit."

Paul walked over to the Communications console after a few minutes. Jessica was trying to trace the signal to no avail. "Can I?" Jessica nodded and traded places with him, sitting at the Operations station watching the technical expert work his magic. His hands were a blur as they moved across multiple keyboards, writing code for a complex search algorithm of his own design. It was elegant yet brutally simple, something to expect from a SPARTAN-III.

"Alright, the drones were sourced from the frigate itself, but someone in Masada is pulling the strings. I can't repurpose them, and they are circling around Masada for an attack run." Albert nodded, pulling up a map of known troop dispositions on his TACMAP. After quickly studying the map, Albert could see the Wombats' target: a captured supply depot currently being held by India Troop. Without it, the Spartans would have to rely on their own meager supplies to fight a very well equipped enemy.

"Alright, how long until we are in MAC range?" Albert's question, while surprising, was never truly so. Everyone on the bridge knew the stakes, and just how powerful the frigate's main weapon was. Still, firing a simulated MAC was a little bit of a shock to all of them. Never before had they been gifted with such raw destructive power.

"At our current pace, only four minutes. Should I initiate the charging sequence?" Albert simply nodded in return. Julie began to do calculations for the firing of the weapon, while Paul accessed the reactor controls to shunt power to the magnetic coils. Albert leaned back in his chair and watched the world below him fly by as the _Herald_ completed its orbit and began to descend towards the Forge once more.

Paul spoke up over TEAMCOM. "MAC at seventy-six percent and charging. Maximum charge in one minute, six seconds." Julie inputted the last parameters of her calculations into the targeting computer, seemingly satisfied with her work. Just then, a warning klaxon sounded. Jessica swung around to check her console, speaking out loud as she did so.

"Shit. That Wombat group just got sent our way. Should intercept in less than thirty seconds." The frigate had slowed to around Mach 1, which was enough to put it in the line of fire from something as simple as a Wombat UCAV. Albert looked around at his fellow Spartans, who stared back at him with looks of absolute conviction.

"Once more unto the breach, my dear friends."

* * *

 **1422 Hours, August 18, 2551 (Military Calendar) \  
** **UNSC** _ **Herald**_ **, Onyx, Zeta Doradus System**

Four hours after the assault on the _Herald_ , it was all over. Masada was a smoking ruin. At least it was according to the simulator. After blowing the ten Wombats out of the sky, the Spartan-controlled frigate had laid waste to the fortress with one shot. Nearly a quarter of the enemy's strength was wiped out in an instant. Following that, the _Herald_ settled in over the jungle, providing close air support for a massive assault by Gamma Company on enemy lines. Every time an enemy Pelican or Hornet showed its face, it was swatted out of the sky like an obnoxious mosquito.

After corralling the enemy forces into one section of the jungle, the rest of the Spartans had pulled back and let Albert's platoon do its thing. A barrage of Archer missiles turned the jungle into a firestorm, a simulated inferno that cost the Marines nearly their entire force. In the end, Gamma had lost thirty-three Spartans to the tune of nearly the entire opposing force. Not bad, even for a Spartan company.

The Spartans who had taken the _Herald_ were greeted by incoming Pelicans from Camp Currahee just a few minutes after the company had claimed victory. Aboard the dropships were medical teams, engineers, a detachment of DIs to process the casualty count, and two much unexpected visitors. Albert stiffened as Commander Ambrose and Chief Mendez stepped out of the drop bay into the _Herald_ 's primary hangar.

"Commander on deck!" All twenty Spartans snapped into attention, firing off a quick salute to their CO. Kurt chuckled and waved his hands. "At ease, Spartans." He looked around at the devastation wrought by the four fireteams, including a group of grumbling Marines gathered at the far side of the hangar. Mendez's eye remained fixed on the Spartans in front of him, boring into them with unrivaled intensity.

"Whose idea was this? Boarding a UNSC frigate, endangering the lives of Navy crewmen? Hell, even fighting in an enclosed reactor room?" Both men's faces were impassive, completely unreadable. Without a second's hesitation, Albert stepped forward. "If you are looking for someone to blame, it was my plan. Any mistakes that were made were a result of my plan." The assembled group was silent as the Commander continued his inspection of the hangar.

He turned back to the Spartans and chuckled. "Blame? Albert, you somehow managed to beat my no-win scenario for Gamma. In all my wildest dreams, I never imagined that even Spartans could survive orbital bombardment." Albert was stunned: this was a test? The entire exercise was designed to be unwinnable. It all made perfect sense now. The _Herald_ was supposed to be the one thing that the Spartans couldn't touch: orbital support. In the missions that Gamma would be deployed on, Covenant fleet elements would present an enemy that couldn't be killed or incapacitated. But why then had it been so easy to bluff their way onto the frigate?

"I hadn't counted on Commander Burt's actions at all. I even ordered ODSTs to guard against Spartan attacks, in the unlikely event that you had somehow made it aboard. I am the one to blame for all this." Kurt looked at Albert, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Spartans don't believe in no-win scenarios. Excellent job, Albert."

"Thank you, sir." Albert saluted the commander once more, a gesture which Kurt returned. The younger Commander turned to Chief Mendez. "Chief, your Spartans did well today. See to it that the feast tonight is spectacular." The Chief merely nodded and turned towards the Pelican. Albert sighed: the Chief was a hard man to impress, even with this outcome. Or so he thought.

"Good job Spartans. Looks like you have been listening after all." The Chief's few words were better than any praise given by Commander Ambrose. As the older man stepped into the Pelican, followed closely by Commander Ambrose, the Spartans turned to each other, depolarizing their faceplates. Most of them were grinning wildly, riding the adrenaline rush from the battle and their after-action reports.

Albert spoke up. "You did good today. All of you." He looked around the circle, making eye contact with every single member of his strike force. "Today, we lived up to the standard that the Master Chief and his brothers and sisters created. Remember what Commander Ambrose said to us during induction: we are the sword and shield of humanity. This is the day that we were forged: do not forget it." Albert repolarized his faceplate, the rest of the Spartans following suit soon afterwards.

"Let's go home."

* * *

 **2207 Hours, August 18, 2551 (Military Calendar) \  
** **Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus System**

Albert leaned back, a contented sigh escaping his lips. His stomach was full, the sky was stunning tonight, and a certain female Spartan was curled up at his side. Life was good, at least for now. Albert draped an arm around Sarah's shoulder, holding her close to him. Her eyes, previously shut, fluttered open, a yawn escaping her lips.

"Sky sure is beautiful tonight." He nodded, staring up at the seemingly never-ending expanse of space. His thoughts were momentarily dominated by memories of his childhood, staring up at stars so similar to the ones above Onyx and yet so different. _And from those stars came death on a scale humanity has never seen before._ Albert shuddered as he remembered the ships descending on his world, plasma lancing out from their lateral lines to turn his home into a wasteland.

"You okay?" Sarah stroked his face with her hand, softly caressing his jawline. Albert reached up and took her hand in his, smiling down at his girlfriend. For the first time since augmentations, she looked at peace. He couldn't burden her with his pain, his loss. "I'm fine."

She smiled and snuggled up closer to him. The two were sitting at the very edge of the camp, leaned up against one of the barracks. It was common for them to retreat here following training to simply relax and enjoy each other's company. Tonight was no exception.

"So you really think we're ready?" Sarah's question came unbidden, but Albert didn't mind the interruption. He had been thinking of the same thing since they returned to base. After all the training Gamma Company had gone through, their first mission had to be coming up. Albert felt elated at the opportunity to finally fight the monsters who took his family from him, but he was also worried: he feared for the lives of his teammates, his new family. _And especially Sarah._

"I don't know. All I know is that we're Spartans: eventually, we'll have to fight." Sarah's face darkened at the thought. It was clear that she was plagued by the same doubts as Albert. The two Spartans sat there silently for a few moments before Sarah spoke up again.

"Then let's cherish every moment." She pulled Albert in for a passionate kiss, forgetting for a moment the time and place. The world seemed to melt away as they found solace in each other. For now, the Spartans had nothing to worry about, nothing to fear: only things to cherish, things to embrace, things to love.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Hey everyone, I hope you all are enjoying November and the coming of winter (to the northern hemisphere at least). I know I said that this fic wasn't going to be up until New Year's, but it was beckoning to me so I just had to finish it.

I wanted to flesh out the fate of Gamma Company, especially given that every single piece of Halo literature is so freaking vague about it. All we know is that they shipped out prior to the Battle of Onyx, just a few weeks after Reach fell. Where did they go? What did they do? These are the questions that this fic will address.

In addition, this story will be primarily about the career of Albert-G079 prior to his time in Spartan branch. He will play a role in the training of Delta Company in _Prometheus_ , so I kind of wanted to give him his own story. Besides, writing about SPARTAN-IVs is boring sometimes, and the SPARTAN-IIIs from canon are so underappreciated. The post-war environment is fun to explore, but I haven't really delved into the last days of the Human-Covenant War quite yet.

Look out for more stuff for Prometheus in the future. I'm hoping to be able to write both of these fics simultaneously, but this one will only be a few chapters, more like a prequel miniseries to _Prometheus_. Anyways, thanks for reading!


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